Aftershock
by Cassandra106
Summary: "God. I swear, if Hermione hadn't made us look through our Hogwarts stuff, if she hadn't found her old time-turner, if Luna hadn't sent us both back in time... I wouldn't be in this mess. But, I guess, that's how life goes when you're Harry Potter. Stuff happens." HarryPotterXTomRiddle After the war. M for language and possible mature content later on. A bit of HarryXOC.
1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing I learned from the war, it was to pick your battles.

So, when Hermione _insisted _that we all-her, Ron, and I-go through our old Hogwarts packs before school started up again, I agreed, however reluctantly.

Three hours into it, and I'm starting to regret that decision.

_'Just how did I manage to fit so many broken quills in one suitcase?' _I groan, leaning back against the wall in Ron's room.

Hermione studiously ignores me, rifling through a large pack of what looks to be photos. Ron makes a small noise of understanding from his place on the floor, having already given up.

"'Mione," I begin in the sweetest tone I can muster up. "I-"

I'm interrupted by Hermione letting out a large laugh as she looks at something she must've found.

"What is it?" Ron asks, immediately standing up and looking around.

"Oh, Ginny'll love this," she said, a hint of humor still in her voice as she looks up at us from whatever's in her hand. "It's my old time-turner."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'd thought you'd turned that in to McGonagall."

She shook her head lightly, chuckling and swinging the time-turner back and forth by the chain. "I'd thought I had, too… I guess, in the swing of everything else happening at the time, I simply forgot to."

Ron looks incredulous. "You, _Hermione Jean Granger,_ forgot something. _You_."

"If I remember correctly," she snaps, a light blush on her cheeks, "there was quite a lot going on at the time."

"You're right," I say lightly, eyeing the way light sparkled against it. "Just think, though… Do you know how useful that would've been to have, 'Mione? To have been able to go back in time…"

She shoves it in her pocket hurriedly, a guilty look on her face.

"Well," she says quickly, eyes pointed at somewhere far behind me, "What's happened, happened. Best not to dwell on it now.

…

Lunch at the Weasley's had always been a tight fit, but this was ridiculous. After the war, several families had taken refugee at the Burrow. Most of them were back home now, but a few of them-the Lovegoods, Neville Longbottom, Teddy Lupin and Andromeda Tonks-had deigned to stay a bit longer for various reasons.

Thus, despite Mrs. Weasley's insistence against it, lunch was now a grab-and-leave activity. Luna, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and I walked outside with our meals, sitting under a small tree.

"What do you think school is going to be like?" Luna asks dreamily, looking up at the sky. Her sandwich seems completely abandoned. "With the war being all said and done?"

"I don't know," I say. "People are going to be bitter, that's for sure." I take a bite of my meal.

"I think bitter would be an understatement," Ron grimaces, showing some of the insight that he has gained now that it's all over.

That's one of the weirdest things-we're all so different, and we keep on trying to fit the places we left behind; like little kids fighting to put the cube in the round hole. It doesn't quite _fit_.

"You'll never guess what I found," Hermione says in a bright tone. Maybe she's hoping it'll change back into a cylinder if she warps it enough?

"What?" Ginny asks, seemingly unaware.

"My old time-turner." Hermione pulls the gold necklace out of her pocket, swinging it from two fingers. "Isn't it weird?"

"Yeah," Luna murmurs, reaching for it and grasping as Hermione hands it to her. She begins to fiddle with it absentmindedly, looking to the clouds. "Weird."

Neville looks up from the grass he had been studying. "Maybe you should turn it in. The Ministry's having enough trouble restoring everything back to where it was before. This would probably make it easier-just think, it's probably the very last time-turner left," he muses. "I wonder how different things would've been if we had found it earlier…"

"It's broken," Luna interjects almost lazily. "It must've twisted a bit at some point."

Hermione laughs. "That makes sense, I guess. It wouldn't have made much use even if we _had _found it." I can tell she feels much better; she'd probably been letting all those that could've been saved fall on her shoulders for the last few hours.

It's not that odd. We all have someone on our shoulders, _someone _we could've, _should've _been there for…

It's part of being a survivor, those small regrets.

"You're right," I say, looking up to the clouds as Luna has been. "There's no point to dwelling on it."

And I glance to Luna, looking to the time-turner.

She sits there, blond curls wafting slightly in the wind, grey eyes to the sky. Her hands absentmindedly play with the time-turner.

Twirling it, round and round.

"Luna!" I shout, grabbing her hand to stop her. "What are you doing?"

Her eyes meet mine, before she looks down at her own hands enclosed in mine.

"Oh," she says, stopping.

I glance around to see everyone tensed around us, waiting for _something_, _anything _to happen.

A few moments pass.

A couple more.

We all slowly relax, and I chuckle, laying my arm around Luna loosely while one hand is still around her's and the time-turner, touching the metal faintly.

"Fuck, Luna, you almost gave me a heart attack," I say, laughing. The last bubble of tension in the air releases, and we all begin to chuckle.

A light twisting in my stomach is my only warning.

Everything goes black. And all I can feel is Luna's hand in mine, desperately clutching.


	2. Chapter 2

**First, I have to thank all of you sssssssooooooo much for all the attention I've received in follows and even favs in this story so far. I've never had this much feedback on my writing before, and it's really amazing.**

Reviews are very much appreciated as well, and I always try to respond to every single one, so if you have any questions, please tell me immeadiatly. Thanks! :)

"Where are we?" Luna's voice comes out hazily from somewhere below my neck.

I become aware of her body, laying snugly on top on mine with our hands intertwined.

My first thought:

_'Oh, shit...'_

My second:

_'Why are we laying on the grass?'_

I look down to Luna, deftly maneuvering her off of me and looking around us. We're in a large field, surrounded by waving grasses of about two or three feet high sprinkled with one or two trees here and there. The land is bumpy and rocky. Right next to us is a small tree, only about five or six feet tall.

I let out a sigh of relief when I realize we're both fully dressed.

"I don't know," I say, answering Luna's question slowly as I stand. "What happened?"

She pauses. Then says, "_Oh_."

"...Luna? Please don't tell me we..." I leave the sentence unfinished.

She shakes her head, grabbing my hand and yanking herself to a standing position before looking to me with a raised eyebrow and a comical expression. Her skirt, just below knee length with brightly colored stripes in all shades from mulberry to chartreuse, has grass stains at the knees.

Her small hands find the chain around her neck, raising it up and showing it to me.

_'...a time turner?' _

And that's when it sinks in, just as she says;

"I rather think that '_When_ are we?' would be a better question."

I feel lightheaded.

"The time-turner was broken," I say, my voice hoarse and cracking.

"Obviously. A time-turner in perfect condition would've only taken us a few hours. We're all the way back to before the Burrow was here, thus before Molly and Arthur married in... 1968, 1969? Before Charlie was born in 1970."

"Crap."

"Quite." Her voice has a bright tone to it.

My hand comes up to rub at my forehead.

"How far is Diagon Alley from here?" I murmur.

She pauses. "I don't quite know. But my home would be just over the hill there. Maybe we could see if it's there, and perhaps use the Floo if it is?"

I nod. "Lead the way."

...

The Lovegood's house was, in fact, still there. It didn't seem to have changed at all, truth to be told. It was just as black and oddly cylindrical as ever.

She smiles brightly, skipping up to the door, and a little bit of her hope transfuses itself into me.

Maybe we can find a way out of this mess.

Luna opens the door confidently, and I sidle behind her.

"What if someone's inside?" I ask.

She smiles at me. "Not at this time of day, silly."

It's noon. I even look up at the sky to check, before shaking my head and following her with a slight smile on my face.

She's right. The house is empty.

"Does the Floo work?" I ask her, eying a boar's head on the wall.

"There's a pot of powder next to it, so I'd guess so," she says brightly, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the fireplace. "Where to?"

"Diagon Alley, I guess... At the very least we could find a newspaper or ask the date."

She nods brightly, grabbing a handful of powder from a urn next to the fireplace and throwing it in before pulling us both into the fire and shouting clearly, "Diagon Alley!"

A second later, we're thrust into a crowd of people, bumped and shoved repeatedly. Luna's hand still in mine, she dragged me out of the crowd, stopping in a street-way outside of what was clearly the Hog's Head.

I eye the people around us in shock, taking in their outfits.

It's like being in a black and white photograph, except everything's in color. All the clothing follows the styling of the 40's, with short bobs and perms and dresses that seem incredibly formal on the women and carefully neat hair on all of the men with suits on some and tucked in shirts on others. There were also a lot of children going around and buying school supplies.

Luna's hand is wrapped around my forearm, pulling me down the street.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we walk quickly through the throng of people giving us odd looks.

She pauses.

"I don't really know," she says lightly. "But somewhere is better than nowhere, don't you think?"

And I can't think to correct her, so I follow her instead.

We stop at a store.

"Luna..." I say slowly. "Why are we at a clothing store?"

She pauses. "Because we need clothing."

And I look down at our dirty and ratty clothes, ruined from walking in tall grass and covered in ash from Floo travel, I can't help but agree.

But I shake my head. "We need to get somewhere safe first."

She sighs. "Okaaaay." Her voice is reluctant, and I chuckle.

"Why don't we find Dumbledore?" I ask.

She pauses, thinking.

"Guessing from all the kids around, I'd say it's about before the new term is starting at Hogwarts... Dumbledore would be at the school, wouldn't he?" she asks. "Preparing the classes?"

I pause. "I don't know..."

"Well..." Luna murmurs. "We could always take the train when it's time just like every else..."

"Sure."

...

It doesn't take us long to learn the date-it's August 31st, 1943.

46 years back in time.

Luna and I (_after _she uses the ten galleons of pocket money to buy us some extremely low priced clothing) are staying at the Leaky Cauldron for the night. She still has two galleons, seven sickles, and four knuts left. Everything is cheap.

"Isn't it odd?" I ask Luna lightly as we both try to go to sleep in our one bed as she couldn't quite afford a two bed room.

"What?"

"That we arrived the day before term to start."

She laughed.

"I think I know something more odd, Harry."

I pause. "What?"

"We're in the same year as Tom Riddle."


	3. Chapter 3

**... Don't kill me. Please.**

***cowers behind large desk***

**I'm sooo sorry for the long wait. I swear that, from now on, we will be returning to the normal schedule, which was, as some of you may know, a chapter every weekend. I will be trying for Saturday. I may post it on Sunday or Friday, though. It WILL be on the weekend. No fear.**

**EXPLANATION: (you don't have to read if you don't want to)****  
As for where the heck I was and what the heck I was doing, I don't want to go on a rampage. Lets just say I went through a helluva rough spot where I wasn't really even writing on my personal stories, which are usually first priority. I was falling into a small depression, and I lapsed into insomnia for a short period of time. I'm fine now, and I don't mean to complain. I brought it all on myself, anyhow. It was just shit for a while, and I won't do it again.**

**Please review, if only to tell me how much I disgust all of you.**

**Sorry again.  
**

**~Cassie  
**

* * *

I sleep fitfully, thinking of things that might happen the next day.

Maybe Dumbledore wouldn't want to help us. Maybe he would think we were crazy. Maybe Voldemort would kill us. Maybe...

Maybe we're stuck in this time period. Maybe I'll never see Hermione or Ron again.

I choke back a scream as I wake up from a fitful nightmare of something I can't quite recall. Luna is curled up next to me on the bed, unconsciously seeking my warmth. I ruffle her hair lightly as the feeling of horror slowly washes off of me.

Try as I might for the next few minutes, I can't seem to fall asleep. I get up and enter the small bathroom adjacent to our room, changing into a Hogwarts uniform and looking at my reflection critically in the mirror.

Something is different about this uniform. The lines are subtly changed near the collar, and it sits around my shoulders in a more refined, elegant way.

On the other hand, I still look like I don't quite fit in the uniform. It looks like something out of the nineteen forties, but I am still clearly part of the 90's. I feel out of place, like I'm playing the part of a character that I don't work as.

Oh well. Hopefully I won't have to be here long.

"Harry?" Luna's voice echos from the bedroom, drugged and lazy sounding.

"Yeah," I say softly. "I couldn't sleep."

There's a pause, and I hear her murmur, _"Lumos."_

"What time is it?" I ask her, eying the suit again and fiddling with the collar.

A pause. "Around 7:00am. We slept in."

I curse. "If we hurry we can make it, yeah?" The trains left at 7:35.

"Yeah." I hear rustling in the other room as she begins to change. I run a nervous hand through my hair, trying to tame it, before splashing water over my face and taking a deep breath. I needed to calm down.

"I'm ready," Luna's voice rings out, and I walk out of the restroom.

Her skirt, ending just over her knees, is a soft grey near the same as her eyes. The robes go down to her mid-thighs, and her pale curls fall over it with the distinct contrast of ivory over black. The time-turner is around her neck, the chain disappearing into her white blouse.

She looks like she was born here, in this time she was never meant to be a part of.

"Are we ready to go?" I ask her softly.

"Unless you want to let something stop us." she said lightly, smiling dreamily and opening the door.

I follow her, even though I'm not quite sure what she means.

...

We get to the train uneventfully, with nearly no delays. The station is crowded, filled with people bustling and parents hugging. Luna and I find an empty compartment quickly and sit on opposite sides of it.

I hear people shouting "I love you"s and "Write soon"s as the train starts moving.

Luna shivers softly, looking out the window.

"Just think," she murmurs, "Tom Riddle is on this train with us. He's here."

"I never will escape Voldemort, will I?" I murmur softly.

Her grey eyes pierce mine. "Oh, but he isn't Voldemort. At least, not the Voldemort we know. Not yet."

"What is he, then?"

"He's a teenage boy." She says with a fanciful tone. "Merely a small boy in front of a small army with big plans."

I pause, letting her words sink in.

"Do you- do you think that, if we tried, we could fix things?" I ask hesitantly. "That we could save him? Save everyone?"

"Time is a circle, never ending and always adapting. It's possible."

I pause. "Has anyone ever done it? Changed what would have happened?"

She looks me in the eyes with a burning gaze.

"If they had, would we know it?"

...

As we were filed into the dining room, I spent merely a moment wondering at how easy it would be to invade Hogwarts this way. Simply riding a train and walking in-no one has done it because everyone assumes it is impossible.

I eye Dumbledore immeadiatly as he sits at the teacher's table, chatting with a thin woman with a pointed nose and wide-set eyes.

"Should we speak to him now?" I ask.

"Does time matter when we are already warping it?" I choose not to answer her, instead heading directly for the table, ignoring the many eyes following us.

"Mr Dumbledore," Luna says politely. He turns to us, and I take a moment to marvel at how young he is now, with auburn hair and smooth skin free of the harshness of age. "May we please borrow you for a moment before the sorting begins?"

He looks at us for a second behind piercing spectacles before nodding. "Surely I can spare a moment."

We slip into the hallway quickly, and the door closes behind us with the soft sound that something might make at the end or beginning of it's life.

"Mr Dumbledore, we're lost." Luna says. "We were staying with family friends when an accident occurred and we were sent here."

"Oh, my," he says. "And where do you live? I can send for you to be brought home as soon as possible."

"1999." she says softly. "We belong in 1999."

He pales visibly. "And how did this happen, my child?"

I spoke up. "One of our friends found a time-turner that was broken"-Luna lifted said time-turner out from under her shirt-"and fiddled with it just a bit. We were spiraled into time."

Dumbledore held out for the time-turner with shaking fingers. Luna gave it to him quickly.

"We need help," Luna said softly. "In our time, we trusted you very much. We were hoping you might be able to show us what we need to do."

Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes were fixed on the time-turner.

"Marvelous..." he murmured. "What does it do? When it's not broken, I mean?"

I pause, and Luna chuckles softly.

"I hadn't realized they weren't invented yet," she softly chortled. "Working properly, they are used to send one back in time as much as two days. This one is broken."

Dumbledore softly handed the necklace back to her with an almost reluctant expression.

"If that didn't prove your story," he said slowly, eying the time-turner, "nothing would've. I'm assuming there is no known way for a person to travel forward in time for you, am I wrong?"

"Not beyond the usual way."

"Well, then," he mused. "What year were you attending at school?"

I paused. "Due to harsh circumstances, we both were more of less absent during our seventh year."

"Harsh circumstances?"

"A war," Luna said softly. Dumbledore nodded in an aged way.

"I see. As is Hogwart's policy, I can allow you to be resorted and admitted into the school as exchange students. Until we can find a way to send you back to where you came from, I'm afraid you're stuck here."

My heart plummeted because, loathe as I was to admit it, part of me had been expecting Dumbledore to just give me an explanation and send us back quickly.

"Okay," I say softly. Luna wraps her hand around my wrist for just a millisecond, squeezing softly, and some part of it reminds me of Hermionie grabbing my hand when I was lost or Ron clapping me on the back awkwardly.

Part of the small touch reminds me of home.

Part of it gives me hope.

So I take a deep breath and stand tall when I'm directed to the Sorting Hat.

We _will_ get back home. I don't let myself doubt it.

* * *

**This hasn't been beta'd so please tell me if you find any errors. Thanks. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Heey! Sorry it's a little late. My internet went out, I'm afraid. But it's here now. **

**I don't know if I really like this chapter much. It feels a tad rushed.**

**Reviews are food, and I live off food! :D**

* * *

"I think Dumbledore wants us," I say, eying the older man as he waves to us from the teacher's table as we waited nervously at the door's edge. "don't you?"

"I daresay you're right," she murmurs offhandedly before walking promptly in that direction as if that was what she had planned the whole time. I follow her quickly.

"Now," Dumbledore said softly, meeting my eyes with a steady gaze. "I was just telling your headmaster, Professor Dippet, about how you were refuges from the war with Grindlewald. Tragic story, it is. How your parents were brought down in his course against half-bloods. It was quite brave of you to come here for safety. Home-schooled, weren't you?" All of this was said with a deliberate slowness that told me I just had to play along, so I nodded slightly.

"Now," he said, "I didn't quite catch your names."

I bite my lip, spouting the first thing that came to my mind. "James Evans." Luna raises an eyebrow at me but remains silent, as if saying she didn't really care. "And... Ummm. Linda... Lewis." comes out sounding more like a question, but there isn't much to do about that.

Dippet nods, beady brown eyes looking at us with no hint of suspicion in them. His hand, quill ready, races against a sheet of parchment as he writes it down.

"What year are you in?" he asks.

"Seventh," Luna speaks up. "We kept ahead with Hogwart's school regime."

The man nods tiredly. "Albus? Why don't you announce them? The first years are almost finished sorting. These two can just be added to the end of the line, don't you think?"

Dumbledore walks to the front of all the tables. "We have some exchange students to sort as well this year. Give a Hogwarts welcome to James Evans and Linda Lewis, who will be joining the seventh year." A few students, mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, clap. We are directed to the sorting hat.

There was a time when the red and gold of Gryffindor meant home to me. I think of what home is now as I walk to the sorting hat with so many eyes on me.

When I think of home, my mind is filled with the Weasleys, Hermione, Luna, and Neville. The family I'd built around myself, which I'd found was much more important than what I had been born to.

But, now that I have been separated from that family, I think, what will my home be here? Will I be lost? Or will I make a new home for myself?

As Dumbledore talks to Dippet in the sidelines, I sit on the stool with as much confidence as I can master.

A thin woman with an upturned nose and a soft smile places the hat on my head. Regrettably, it still sags, though not as much as when I first wore it. My eyes are no longer blocked, but I an instantly tempted to push it up as it slouches on my forehead.

_'Hmmm...' _it began merrily. _'You would do quite well in Slytherin, but you already know that, don't you? Hufflepuff, while certainly not a meager house, wouldn't suit you well enough. Ravenclaw isn't the best choice, either, I daresay.'_

_'I was in Gryffindor last time.'_

'Last time?' It paused. _'No matter. Even so, people change. The sorting would change with the person. Ahh... But you would fit well in Gryffindor, wouldn't you? Nice and brave, plenty loyal. Perhaps, perhaps...' _it mused. _'Yes, I see, _GRYFFINDOR_ would do greatly.'_ I think about all the insecurities I have ever had about my house and if I'd really belonged in Slytherin. Perhaps some things are just meant to be.

I take the hat off, standing to the side as Luna sat down. There is nearly an entire minute of terse silence.

I am only slightly shocked as "GRYFFINDOR!" comes out of the hat in a great bellow.

Luna's eyes widen, and she glares at the hat slightly before huffing and grabbing my arm to drag me to our table.

"Silly old hat wouldn't listen," she explains lightly. "I _told_ it I was a Ravenclaw, but it insisted I was a Gryffindor." I laugh lightly, and we sit down at a small empty spot at the table.

A guy about our age with curly brown hair the color of coffee and almond-shaped blue eyes smiles at us brightly. Freckles dust over his cheekbones and I can't help but think he reminds me just a little bit of Ron somehow.

He sticks out his hand out over the table and gives me a lopsided smile. "Name's Daniel Prewett. You were James, right?" I pause and almost deny it before remembering at the last second and nodding. I can feel eyes of curious people watching us for answers.

"This is Linda," I say lightly, nodding in her direction. My hand meets his across the table; his grasp is warm and sharp, lasting for a few seconds before pulling away.

He nods, eyes never leaving mine. "Is she your sister?"

I pause, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. She nods slightly.

"Uh, Yeah." He laughs.

"You don't sound very sure." he says.

_'That's because I'm not,'_ I think. But I smile at him anyway, saying, "I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

"Yeah," he murmurs, a cloud falling over his face for a second before he says in a much brighter tone, "So, why did you transfer so late on? Most come in during fourth year or sooner. It seems a bit pointless to come now."

I try to remember what Dumbledore said. "We escaped from an attack on our family from Grindlewald. We got lost, so we came here."

"Oh," he says, sympathy flashing over his features. "I'm sorry. Have you been able to contact your family yet? You can borrow my owl if you need to."

I shake my head, looking down. The shame of the lie falls down on me full course. All I can think of are all the families I saw mourning after the final battle at Hogwarts. The people who lost whole families-I feel like I am mocking what they felt now. I am merely a sham of what they felt.

"It's fine," I croaked, hoping the guilt came off as pain. "They're all dead anyway."

His hand brushes across my wrist and I look up at him just to verify that I felt it. I'm still not sure I did. "I'm sorry," he says again.

I nod lightly. "So am I."

~~~

After the feast, Professor Dippet and Dumbledore pull us away from the crowd. Dippet, a short old man with gray curls and deep blue robes, smiles at us sympathetically. He smells like mothballs.

"We've arranged your schedule," Dippet says kindly, handing both of us a sheet of parchment. "Here."

I scanned over it lightly. It was very basic, the kind of classes a student with no idea what they would be doing would take. There was nothing specialized on the list.

"Thanks," I said sincerely.

"I've arranged for a prefect to lead you to a few of your classes for the first week," Dippet said. "He should be capable of answering any questions you have about Hogwarts. Tom, Riddle that is, has never had any trouble with this sort of thing, but if he harasses either of you in any way, don't hesitate to tell a Professor."

We nodded softly. I swallowed.

"Now," Dumbledore says. "It's getting rather late, so I think I shall call one of the Gryffindor prefects up to walk you to your rooms." He looks to Professor Dippet. "Debra is supervising the first dueling club meeting this year, isn't she?"

Dippet nods. "That leaves Daniel Prewett. I'll send for him." He whistled loudly, and there s just a moment where I wonder what he's doing before a small owl swoops in and lands on his shoulder. "Summon Daniel Prewett," Dippet says sternly, and the owl flew off after giving off a low hoot.

"Wasn't Daniel the boy from lunch?" Luna asks dreamily. I nod.

"The boy with the dark brown hair."

"Oh." she says brightly. "The one that looked like Ronald." I nod.

Sure enough, it's only a few minutes more before Daniel, all messy chocolate curls and long gangly limbs, stumbles in, seemingly tripping over a flat surface. The owl comes in behind him.

"Yes?" he says distractedly before he notices Luna and me with a wide smile. "Hi! What are you doing here? Didn't get in trouble already, did you?"

"No," Dumbledore says. "We were just wondering if you could lead them to their dorm rooms."

Daniel nods. "Sure. Why not? C'mon." He trots towards the door, half skipping. I jump to follow him, and Luna chuckles softly, already ahead of me.

"So," he says as we go down the hallways swiftly. "Do you know who's going to be showing you around to your classes?"

Luna nods. "Tom Riddle." I swallow; hearing her confirm it doesn't help.

"Oh," Daniel says, frowning slightly before chasing it away. "How do you like Hogwarts so far?"

"It's really big," I say, remembering my first impression when I was only a first year. I realize I'm lagging behind him just a bit so I speed up.

He chuckles as we reach the Fat Lady. "That it is. Don't worry; most of the old wings aren't even in use anymore. You'll be fine in no time flat. Oh, and the password is 'Lionheart.'"

I nod and watch as the portrait swings to the side and Daniel slips in lithely, following him. The common room is the same as it always was, though the people are different-if I don't focus on faces, it's almost a perfect mirror of what it will be.

"Tina!" Daniel calls out, stopping when a blonde girl with short hair in a meticulous bob comes to us. "Can you show Linda here to the seventh year rooms? She's a new transfer student."

The girl nods. "Sure," she says, giving Luna a friendly smile before walking off to the staircase with Luna trailing behind her.

Daniel turns to me intently. "Our's is just the staircase next to it," he says, turning around and heading through the sea of people and up the stairs. I follow him, surprised yet again at his speed. "You can't visit your sister in her rooms, though," he says lightly. "The stairs'll fall right out from under you." I nod as we reach the top of the staircase.

He opens the door for me with a flourish of his hand.

"And here we are," he says. "If you need anything, just ask. The empty bed is your's." He gives me another smile. "Right next to mine."

"Thanks," I tell him, looking around the same circular room that I slept in during my last visit to Hogwarts. I'll be sleeping in Ron's bed, I realize, and Daniel in mine.

How odd some things work out, don't you think?

* * *

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! **

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	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, from now on, I want you all to know that if I'm late, you have all access to bother me on my deviantART (hgfdsasdfgh) or my twitter (Cassi106). In fact, I'll probably post explanations on twitter if I am late, or notify you ahead of time that I will be.**

**So if you need to know, look there. :)**

**This chapter is late because I am in the middle of writing a long-ish TomXHarry oneshot that will PROBABLY be up in a week or two. **

**No fear, I have not abandoned you yet.**

**Review!**

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_I stand up, looking around. Am I in some great Room of Requirement? The longer I look, the more there is to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above me in sunlight. Perhaps it's a palace. All is hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist..._

I turn slowly on the spot, and my surroundings seemed to invent themselves before my eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It is quite empty. I am the only person here, except for...

I recoil. I had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It has the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it has been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath.

I am afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, I do not want to approach it. Nevertheless I draw slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon I stand near enough to touch it, yet I can not bring myself to do it. I feel like a coward. I ought to comfort it, but it repulses me.

"You cannot help."

...

"James?" a voice yells out, as if from some distance away. "...James, can you hear me?!"

I frown. Or at least I think I do. Everything's hazy.

Suddenly my whole existence is shaken roughly back and forth, and I snap back into reality harshly.

I open my eyes slowly, light from a candle blinding me. Someone's hands are fixed on my shoulders; they must've shaken me awake.

"Ron?" I murmur sleepily, sitting and squinting around me. "What time is it?" A blurred figure shakes it's head back and forth in front of me.

Where _are _my glasses? I grasp at the side table next to my bed, and a warm hand presses the frames into my fingers as the blurred figure leans closer.

I slip the glasses on, thinking Ron first still before blinking and realizing it's Daniel.

His nose is inches away from mine. His eyes, dark blue with a golden ring around the center, hypnotize me slowly.

"Who's Ron?" he whispers. I blink slowly, like a deer escaping the headlights.

"An old friend," I say softly, eyes flickering over his freckles (golden brown and dusted right over the bridge of a nose just like Ron's) and, oddly, landing on his (reddish and full) lips lingeringly before snapping back to his eyes.

"He's gone now." I quickly spurt. "I was tired, and you looked a little like him... I shouldn't have- I don't know what made me think it was him."

He pulls away slowly, looking me in the eyes. "No, it's fine," he says, smiling at me slightly. "I just came over because you were thrashing something horrid in your sleep. I didn't know what was happening. Are you okay?" His eyes flicker with the same concern I saw in the dining hall.

"Fine," I say slowly, the dream coming back to me at full force. "I'm fine."

But, even after Daniel's left, even after his breaths even out into the melody of sleep, the same three words keep echoing my head. Dumbledore's words:

_'You cannot help.'_

...

Tom Riddle is just the same as I remember him, all polite kindness and sly comments. His dark hair, curly but trimmed close, matches his dark brown eyes. His pale skin creates a interesting contrast.

His eyes, with long lashes and a wide set, keep drawing me back, for I can remember a time in the future where they are a deep scarlet.

It's hard to like him. He has done (will do?) so many horrible things to so many people. I know for a fact that he killed his own father.

But, I realize as he calmly leads me to my classes throughout the day, it is also very difficult to hate him. Not when I know his past which is, dare I admit it, quite like mine.

(Which, to be honest, haunts me to the bone; what does it mean of me that someone so similar to myself was capable of such things?)

Potions is last block. Luna has Transfiguration with the other half of the Gryffindors, and I'm left alone with Tom Riddle as we walk to the classroom.

"A rumor is spreading that you and your sister are refugees from the war," Riddle says softly, not turning to face me as he continued to lead me to a room I probably knew better than he did.

I nod before remembering that he's not looking. "That's true."

"What is it like out there?" he asked, a calm tone to his voice that suggested feelings that had to be hidden under the surface. "D-do you think he's winning?"

I pause, trying to remember anything Professor Binns had said about the war, but my mind draws a blank.

"All I know is that a lot of people died," I settle on as we draw closer to the Potion's Room.

I watch the back of Riddle's head nod slowly, and the rest of the walk to our classes is silent.

...

'Of course it just had to be Slughorn,' I think, slightly disgusted as we walk in. I almost expect him to recognize me, but his eyes slid over me as if I'm merely a piece of furniture.

For a moment I'm confused, but then I realize- Slughorn looks for trophies. The Boy-Who-Lived was a trophy.

A random refugee? Not so much.

I smile lightly, and I make sure to completely ruin the potion I'm charged with. For once, it's really nice to not be special.

...

Tom walks me back to the Gryffindor commons before turning around and saying, "I hope you sleep well. Good night."

As he walks away, Dumbledore's words once again echo in my skull;

_'You cannot help.'_

And I'm more scared for that boy than I have ever been for anyone in my life.

...

Daniel is sitting alone on his bed in the dorms when I enter them. All the other boys are out playing Quiddich; I can see them out the window.

His eyes are locked on the ceiling, his brow creased in thought.

"James, do you dream about Grindlewald's attack?" he asks me softly, eyes not leaving the ceiling. "Because it's alright if you do. You don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to. It's just that I know how it feels to not be able to iforget/i something... I just wanted you to know it's normal to be scared."

His eyes flicker to mine, just a flash of sapphire, before looking back up at the ceiling.

"Thanks," I murmur softly, because, even though I really appreciate it, all I can think of is that my nightmares are no longer of what I left behind, but instead of what I have found. There was a time in my life when those words would've meant the world to me and more; I just wish someone had said them then.

Daniel nods.

"You-" he pauses, brow creasing again. "You're not a refugee, are you? Not really."

All the heat leaves my body. I cannot find the presence of mind to speak.

"I can tell. A boy came here in my third year. He was a refugee, and he was always jumping around. He was scared of loud noises. And there was this look in his eyes; he was always terrified." Daniel's eyes meet mine again. "You can always tell the difference between someone who's running and someone who's here for a reason."

I nod numbly, staying quiet for a second before saying.

"I was a refugee once. It's been a long time since I was one. Just... don't tell anyone, okay? I'll be gone soon," I say.

His eyes have a sad glint. "What would I tell anyone? What proof would I have? All I can do is hope that you're here to help.'

And this, I think, is the moment I truly begin to respect Daniel Prewett.

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**I dunno, kinda feeling that was a bit rushed. :/ Opinions?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hmm, let's see who still managed to hang on to this story.**

**No monolouge for why it's late, let's just say V-day was crappy and in the rush beforehand I managed to forget to update.**

**Here's the (long awaited) chapter! **

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"Do you believe he's insane?" I whisper to Luna softly. We're in the library, sitting in a corner Hermione used to frequent. It's fairly secluded, small and dark enough that not many students came near it. Luna's books are scattered all around us on the ground as we sit on the plush deep red carpet.

She looks up at me with soft grey eyes. "No, just really sad, really aggravated, and really confused."

I nod stoically. I know that feeling; one where you're certain you hate the world-just not as much as you hate yourself.

"Even-" her voice catches. "Even _then,_ he was so confused." I don't need to hear her say it to know she's referring to her time spent at the Malfoy manner. "He was no longer sane-of course, who would be without most of their soul-but he was still so _confused._"

"Do you-have you ever wondered what it must be like?" I ask hesitantly. "To lose a piece of your soul?"

Her eyes meet mine evenly.

"What was it like to have that piece of him inside of you?" When I'm quiet, she continues. "I don't think it would be something a person could explain, really-just an emptiness, like when you miss someone so much it's like you're ripping in half. Except you're only missing yourself, really."

I hear a shuffling behind us, followed by a sharp clearing of someone's throat. Luna turns to our visitor calmly, while I squeak like a toddler, jumping.

Tom Riddle stands behind us, giving us both a piercing look that makes me gulp. The look is full of something more than I can define- a burning curiosity that leaves me almost puzzled.

I dearly hope he didn't hear us.

But the look he's giving the both of us says otherwise.

"What _is_ Grindlewald doing out there?" he says calmly, sitting next to us with a quiet grace. I eye the green and silver pin on his uniform to remind me that his intentions are not likely to be pure. "To make you say he'd lost his soul?"

Luna gave him a look so sad I almost believed it. "We were just referring to his heart-or lack of one, so to speak. Who would kill so many and still have their soul?"

Riddle raised an eyebrow, leaning to me and eying me with dark eyes.

"And this means you held a part of his soul-_inside you_? Quite an odd metaphor, to be certain."

I gulp and I _feel_ the blood slowly drain from my body. Luna pauses.

"There must be nargles around here," she says, looking around us as if she might spot one in the air. "They cause people to hear things that haven't been said, you know. Quite the mischief makers."

He gives her a small smirk.

"You're talking about horcruxes, aren't you?" he says. A look of wonder flashes across his eyes before he seems to flatten it out. "I won't tell. I know about them, too." He looks around us before saying, "I cast a privacy spell as I came in. No one will hear us."

Luna doesn't say anything. I gulp.

"Now," he says, looking at me eye-to-eye. "We can go on and pretend there is nothing to what I heard or we can just drop all pretenses. I can be _very_ useful to those that please me, I assure you."

All I can think of is other people that probably fell for the same exact line;

Severus Snape. Peter Pettigrew. Draco Malfoy.

Two of them are dead.

So I look him in the eye and try for sincerity as I say that I honestly have no clue what's he talking about.

"Okay, then." Tom's smile is still in place. "Tell me when you're willing to talk."

He walks away as smoothly as he entered.

I gulp.

...

_'You cannot help.'_

I wonder what Dumbledore meant. Was there simply nothing I could do _anymore_? Was there once a time when I could've helped him?

Or was Tom Riddle simply born evil? Is there nothing I can do to change what will happen?

If there is something I can do, should I do it?

...

Daniel sits next me during Breakfast the next day in a cheerful mood.

"Hey, James-do you play Quiddich?" He asks cheerfully, talking between bites. "My brother Bilius's the team captain, and they're doing tryouts later today."

I smile. "I'm a good enough-" Luna elbowed me under the table at the word good, making me choke and laugh. "Okay, I'm a _really _good seeker. You?"

"Beater." He says eagerly, dark brown hair glinting reddish in the candle-light. "I was on the team last year, so it's almost a shoe-in. Are you doing tryouts?"

"Sure," I say lightly. "Why not?"

He smiles at me brightly, blue eyes twinkling. "They're at six; I guess I'll see you then."

And, with that, he stands, waves brightly, and manages to trip over at least five things on his way out of the dining hall.

I chuckle into my hand, not even bothering to hide it.

Luna gives me an oddly knowing smile, and I feel like I missed the punchline to a very odd joke.

...

"So," Riddle says softly as he leads me to Potions. It's the first time he's gotten me alone all day. So far, I've always managed to find someone to come with us; Daniel, Lily, a professor that I wanted to discuss my grade with...

But now we're all alone. Lily has study hall and Daniel has Divination in the other side of the castle. I've run out of Professors to pester.

It's my turn to be pestered.

"I don't think you realize what having me on your side could mean," he said calmly. "I can open doors for you, James, doors you've always thought were locked tight."

I look him in the eye, meeting bright green to silver. "The more I hear from you, Tom, the more I think I don't want what you have to offer."

"You must be dying to tell someone what you know. To find someone who _understands_ your theories... It's one thing to theorize with your sister, Evans, and it's another to be told definitely that you're not insane."

"Maybe," I say lightly, "I could care less about sanity."

I couldn't hold the pretense of knowing nothing for my own life, so I'm trying to make it seem like I don't care what I know or don't.

I can't help but feel he doesn't care either.

"Look," he says as we round the corner to the Potion's room, "it can either be positive reinforcement that makes you come clean or negative reinforcement. What will it be?"

"Is that a threat, Tom Riddle?"

"Only if you let it be."

And then we enter the Potions Room, and our conversation immeadiatly turns to bezoars.

I walk to my desk only to put my hand in my pocket and pull out a small piece of parchment, on top of which is written;

_Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after Quiddich tryouts.  
-T_

I crumple it up, meeting his eyes across the room as I throw it into the air and point a quick _incendio_ at it.

I cannot explain his expression as he watches it burst into flames.

...

"Is James your real name?"

Daniel isn't looking at me; instead, he looks everywhere _but_ directly at me, instead eyeing the scenery as we walk to Quiddich tryouts.

I shake my head lightly, choosing not to speak.

"Does it mean something special, or is it just a random choice?"

"It's special," I croak softly. "Why?"

His eyes meet mine fleetingly before looking away again.

"I was just wondering how much of you was real and how much was fake," he says. "Sometimes it's hard to tell. Is Evans real?"

"No," I say regretfully. For some reason, I want it to be, so I say, "It was my mother's maiden name," just to gain more of a claim to it.

He nods silently.

"James is my middle name," I offer hesitantly.

He gives me a soft smile. "Thanks," he says, and I feel like I've handed him some huge honor, to give him this small, insignificant piece of me.

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**Regardless of whatever hinting is here or whatever realness is later on, chill out. This is still a TomXHarry story. They WILL be the final couple. It'll just take time to get there. **

**Review, please! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I think I told some of you guys that I would try to update again this weekend to make up for missed time. ^^; Well, here it is. **

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"That-that was bloody _brilliant_, James!" Daniel follows me to the boy's dorms excitedly, recapping Quidditch tryouts enthusiastically.

I walk into the room tiredly, throwing my robes in a pile at the foot of my bed and flopping down on it limply.

"I'm exhausted," I groan to him. I'd forgotten how much the sport took out of me.

"It's worth it," Daniel says. His hair is a complete mess, curls falling everywhere without an appearance of order, but his eyes are gleaming. He sits a the foot of my bed, looking at me happily. "I mean, you're certain to have made the team!"

I nod. My hair is probably all over, too. "Aren't you _tired_?" I ask him breathlessly. "Do you ever run out of energy?"

He pauses for a second.

"I'll probably be tired in about fifteen minutes when the high runs off, but I'm pretty energized right now." He stands up, looking down at my robes and picking them up lightly. "I'm going to go change. Want me to put these up for you?"

I nod tiredly, sitting up and stretching. Daniel goes off to put the dirty robes away and I sit on the ground in front of a trunk Dumbledore gave me, pulling out a clean pair of jeans and a button-up t-shirt. I undress quickly, going down to my trousers before pulling up the clean pair of jeans.

A throat clears behind me, and I zip up my jeans before turning around and facing the sound to see Daniel standing in the doorway, a faint pink dusting over his cheekbones.

His eyes slowly lift to my face.

"Uhhhhh..." He gives me a blank look before blinking hard and snapping out of whatever it was with a quick shake of his head. "Uh. I was... I dunno, actually." He chuckles nervously.

I turn around, shrugging the shirt on over my shoulders and buttoning it up. Daniel's footsteps echo behind me and I hear his trunk open. I hear the rustling of clothes and finish buttoning my shirt up, turning to him. He's only in his trousers, so I keep my eyes on his hair determinedly, at least until he pulls up his jeans.

"What are you doing later tonight?" I ask him carefully. I don't really know what I'm saying.

I hear him zip his fly and he turns around, grey wife beater in hand.

His hair is wet now, with little indents and rises in it that make me think he must've tried to straighten it out with a damp comb. The ends are just starting to dry, curling up and poking out already.

He's got the build of a Beater, with defined muscles and wide shoulders. In a few years, when the lankiness leans out, he won't seem so thin, and I have the feeling he'll remind me of a wall of muscle in due time. His chest has a thin sprinkling of very curly dark hair and freckles. He's tan there, too, so I wonder if he practices Quidditch bare-chested.  
_  
'Maybe he swims...'_

I determinedly snap my eyes back to his face and clear my throat. Daniel raises his eyebrow and chuckles at me, pulling his shirt over his head and walking over to me so that we're only a foot apart.

"I guess I'm free," he says, still chuckling with an odd look in his eyes. "Why?"

"Well," I say slowly, taking deep breaths because he's so _close_ suddenly. "Tom Riddle tried to get me to meet him after Quidditch tryouts and I told him no, but he's probably up there waiting anyway... I just want to tell him to leave me alone, and I don't want to go up there alone." I don't know what makes me say it, but it's something spur-of-the moment in it that lets me know that this has to happen.

Something in Daniel's eyes hardens at the same time that something else softens. "Sure, I'll go with you," he breathes, eyes searching mine. "Of course."

His eyes are a very pretty blue.

I don't know which one of us leans in. Maybe it was both of us.

But suddenly our lips are pressed together and his hand is against my cheek and _doesn't that feel nice..._

He pulls away softly only a few minutes later, and I open my eyes slowly. I don't remember closing them.

Daniel's thumb strokes my cheekbone in a soft, repetitive motion.

"We should go," I say hoarsely. He nods, chuckling and leaning away before pulling on his cloak, and I realize the softer something in his eyes is directed at me.

"Where are you meeting him?" he asks me lightly.

"The Astronomy Tower."

He gives me a small smile, zipping up his trunk at the foot of his bed. "We'd better get going, then."

I nod, and he leads the way.

...

"Do you think he's dangerous?" Daniel asks me softly as we walk.

"...Not to me." I say. "I don't think he's dangerous to me."

"Than why am I here?"

"To make sure I don't say something I shouldn't," I tell him honestly. "I need someone to make sure I don't tell him what he wants to know."

"Is what he wants to know important?"

I consider it for a moment. "...very."

Daniel looks grave. "I won't ask you tell me, then. Is it dangerous?"

"Extremely. Especially in Riddle's hands."

Daniel's dark blue eyes look towards the ceiling above us. "You said he wasn't dangerous, James."

"Not to me, no."

"He could hurt you just as quickly as anyone else." Daniel says softly.

"It doesn't matter." I say solidly. "I've-I've got next to nothing left. I can't tell you why that is or even how I got here or what my name is, but you'll have to trust me on this, Daniel. It doesn't matter if he hurts me. No one will miss me."

"I'll miss you."

I say nothing.

"Your sister certainly will."

Again, I say nothing.

"The only person your life doesn't matter to is _you_, James."

...

Sure enough, Tom Riddle stands at the very top of the Astronomy tower, pacing restlessly. It's very windy.

I don't know how Daniel's hand gets in mine, but he squeezes tightly. I squeeze lightly back.

Maybe I shouldn't have brought him; he's more scared than I am.

"I didn't think you would show up," Riddle drawls softly, looking over the side of the balcony. "You seemed a bit... _reluctant_ to accept my invitation."

"I just wanted to tell you to stop bothering me," I say, perhaps a bit louder than I was supposed to, but the wind around us makes it hard to hear.

Tom turns to me, a wry smile on his face and an eyebrow raised. The smile falters when he sees Daniel's hand in mine, but he keeps his façade up regardless.

Sometimes, it seems like everything around him is only a wall. It seems as if everything he does is fake.

For a split second, I wonder what he's like beneath the shields he puts on himself.

"I was merely trying to make sure you knew how much a bargain between us would be worth," he says quietly, and I have to strain to hear him. "It was not my intention to harass you."

Something real flashes in his eyes before he snuffs it, and I hear the words again;

_'You cannot help.'_

And, yet again today, I say something spur-of-the moment that lets me know that this _has_ to happen. That I'm here, doing this, for a reason.

"Maybe we could meet in the library sometime?" I say, once again too loud. "Just to talk."

He raises an eyebrow and turns back to the edge of the building, leaning against the railing. Some part of it makes me nervous, and I don't know what it is until I realize he's standing right over the area Dumbledore fell.

"Perhaps," he says, and it sounds a lot like goodbye, so I turn around and leave, pulling Daniel with me.

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**The main pairing is still TomXHarry for this story, though I've considered a second spin-off that ends up HarryXDaniel. Would anyone read that? There would still be a large amount of drama to it , I assure you. ;P  
**


	8. Sorry Update

**Okay, so, suffice to say, EOCs are hell and my boyfriend is now my ex. Possibly my stalker. ^^;**

**I will update late tonight or early tomorrow. I'm soo sorry for the delay. I don't think that there are many readers left at all. I would've stopped reading this a long time ago. I don't know why any of you still care for this story. :(**

**Thanks for your support. If not for your reviews I might not have considered continuing this at all. :)**

**~ Cassie  
**


	9. Chapter 8

**A little late, but here you are:**

* * *

"You're going to see him, aren't you?" Daniel doesn't sound mad. Just resigned.

It bothers me more than it should.

"Yeah," I say softly. It's late in the night. We're sitting on my bed cross-legged and facing each other awkwardly in the limited space. Secrecy charms blanket us thickly. The world feels like it ends right outside of this space we've built-if we were to fall of the bed, there would be no ground to hit. We would just fall through empty space.

He gives a deep sigh, grabbing my hand hesitantly, as if he's not sure how I'll react.

"Be careful," he says.

I open my mouth to say something along the lines of, _'Of course I will be,'_ but it gets caught in my throat. I don't want to lie anymore.

"I can't say I will be," I say slowly. "And I don't like lying. Can we talk about something else for a change?"

He gives me a small smile. "Sure, James. What do you want to talk about?"

I pause. "I dunno. What's your family like?"

He laughs. "Huge. I've got two older brothers-Gideon and Fabian-and a little sister named Molly, plus the new baby Bilius."

Wow. "How old is Molly, then?"

"Twelve. Sweetest little girl you've ever heard of, though she can be a bit feisty. Bright red hair, along with most of the family." I chuckle along with him, wondering in the back of my mind if _his _Molly now is in fact _my_ Molly later on. It's hard to picture her as a child.

"What're Gideon and Fabian like?"

"Oh, terrible pranksters. Fight like you wouldn't believe, though, and it's not pretty. It's almost like they're joined at the hip, though. You never see one without the other. Even when they're cross with each other." He's got this warm smile in his face, and I wish I could relate to it. "What's your's like, if you can say?"

I pause, thinking of what to say.

"My parents are dead. I was raised by my aunt and uncle on my mother's side," I settle on. "They're muggles."

"Oh," he said. "Do they have kids?" His eyes were full of kind interest.

"One. His name is Dudley."

"What's he like?"

I pause, considering if saying _'Spoiled rotten'_ would be a good idea. "We weren't very close," I say. "His parents separated us a bit. They didn't like magic, and they were a bit afraid of it."

He's silent for a few moments. "Was your mom a muggleborn?"

I nod. "I don't think my aunt knew how to deal with it."

"...James... They didn't..."

I gave him a small smile. "They never hit me. My uncle did scream a bit, but they never really hit me." I squeeze his hands faintly in mine, unsure of whether or not I should, and he squeezes back with a grateful smile.

"Would they have?" He asks. "If you'd done something bad enough?"

"I don't know." Nothing else can be said.

He pauses, thinking. "I can't wait until the Quidditch season starts!"

I laugh, relieved for the change in pace.

We speak for the rest of the night.

...

I wake up entangled in David, his head tucked under mine and his knees tangled between mine. I peek my eyes open to see the very tips of his feet poking out from under the sheets. His arm wraps all the way around my waist and mine lays lightly over his shoulder. His face is only inches from mine, still asleep.

I remember talking like this before we slipped asleep, feeling his warm breath brush across my face.

I study him, his long nose splattered like freckles, his mussed-up brown curls, and his thick lashes, watching the shadows they form across his cheekbones. I realize something.

I don't want to leave this.

...

"What if we didn't go back to our own timeline? What if we just stayed here?"

"We could end up changing things drastically. Not all of those changes would be better," Luna tells me later that day in the library.

"But what if _most_ of them were? Wouldn't that be enough?" I ask desperately.

"Who would judge which choices are better for humanity and which aren't? Who would have the right to decide that one choice is better than another?" She asks me. "Hypothetically, let's say you manage to stop Voldemort's reign of terror somehow. Think of all the people that would never be born because no one felt the rush to live their lives before they were ended. Think of the people like Neville, who would've never realized their true potential if there hadn't been a war to fight."

"Neville would have his parents to teach him that."

"Who says they would've been good parents, Harry? Who says they wouldn't have been abusive? Neglect? How do we know?"

"What about all the people who died? Don't they deserve to live?"

She gives me a sad look. "Harry, they did live. And then they died for a great cause. It's more than most can say."

"What about me?" I ask, irritatedly. "Don't I deserve a happy ending? Can't someone else be the hero for once?"

"Would you be able to live with yourself if you did nothing, Harry?"

"But why does it have to be _me?_"

She sighed softly, hugging me as if she didn't know what else she could do.

"Because no one else cares quite as much."

...

"I'm here." Riddle says slowly to me. "Would you like to tell me why?"

I had asked him to meet me in the library. I guess he didn't think I was serious.

"Because," I say lightly, shrugging and sitting down in the corner Luna and I frequented. "I asked you to come and you said yes."

"But _why?"_ he said, continuing to stand stiffly. "Why do you want me here? Why are you continuing to speak to me? I thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

"Maybe I just wanted you to stop bothering me. Now sit down." I say brightly.

He sat slowly, eyeing me almost nervously.

Tom seems to be waiting for me to say something and I have no clue what to say, so I pull a face. I need to say _something_, but what?

"Do you really want to know what the war is like?" I blurt, regretting the question as soon as it passes my lips.

He nods slowly. "Yes, I do."

I take a deep breath, leaning back. "Then I'll tell you. I can't promise you'll like it, though."

He sits down in front of me without a word, seeming to nudge me to continue.

"It's-there aren't words in the English dictionary to describe the _sadness_. Sometimes you're so scared you can't even scream. Even if you want to. You go to sleep and sometimes you're not even sure if you're going to wake up in the morning. Some people die so slowly that they can _feel _it slipping away. And sometimes you have to watch as they do."

He drinks it all in with a intense fascination, frowning when I stop.

"And Grindlewald? What is he like?"

"...Insane." I say surely. "There was once a time in his life when he was scared, I think, and now he still is. He just can't remember why anymore."

"How did you escape?"

"It was an accident. I wasn't meant to. I don't even really know what happened."

He doesn't ask another question. Instead, he eyes me contemplatively, as if he wonders what that means but doesn't dare to ask.

"Why are you still alive?" he murmurs to softly, almost talking to himself.

"I have no clue," I tell him. "Sometimes I think I should be dead. I've seen a lot of people die. Why wasn't it me? I really don't know."

He takes a deep breath in and out. His eyes, molten silver, pierce mine with a clarity that not many ever possess. Red seems to swim deep within them, and the hairs on the back of my neck raise.

"Do you ever think that you have a _purpose_, Harry?"

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